In the Wrong Lane
by STR0B3L1T3
Summary: A collection of drabbles and ficlets about certain Gossip Girl characters. Mostly BC interaction
1. Reality

**Disclaimer: I don't own GG, yadda, yadda.**

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**Reality**

"I'm sick of you Nate Archibald, you loser POTHEAD! Get a fucking life!" she snarled at the mirror. This truly was the best way to practice a speech.

A voice from behind her murmured, "well, that's awfully nice of you. Don't you think you should tone it down a bit?"

Blair Waldorf was driven and knew what she wanted. Before she had wanted Nate, then she had found out he was a loser pothead. Her left hand stirred the toothpick and olive around the clear liquid.

So many times had both Jenny and her been twirling about on the dance floor, martinis in hand, and dancing the night away. Little Humphrey was a bitch when she wanted, but Blair was proud. Her little queen-bee-wannabe was growing a stinger of her own.

Blair checked the ornate mirror for any out of place hair or emotion. Everything was so natural. Soon, she would be free to do whatever she pleased – without worrying about Nate and Serena.

Serena could have that loser. Blair had moved on from her childhood crush.

A saucy smile formed on her lips as she raised the glass in her right hand, "mmm, martini, the way it should be." Her brown hair swayed as she turned to face a familiar handsome face. She shot him a dazzling smile.

"Amazing, dear heart, now, you have to tell Nathaniel to his face."

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Spotted: **N **fresh from **B**'s penthouse looking like his world has fallen. Oh, and is that **C** entering those very same doors? You know you love me, Gossip Girl.

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**A/N: Quick little thing, bouncing around my head.**


	2. Redirection

**Redirection**

"So, how _did_ you get that tux?" I grinned. There was nothing I loved more than a flustered Chuck Bass. The smooth 'player' being locked on the roof and without his clothes was even more priceless.

Even better, little Humphrey had done it too. I was slightly torn, whether to be proud of her for confronting and tricking Chuck Bass, or to be angry and annoyed at her for disobeying orders. I like to be optimistic; I will ignore her transgressions for now.

"Wasn't it cold up there too? I can't imagine that the shrinkage would have done you very good had you two hooked up," I added, breezily, as if commenting on trivial matters like the weather.

I left him sufficient pause to react to my words and counted in my head for the reaction that was bound to come. _One, two…thr-_

"-excuse me, then, Miss Waldorf."

"You're excused, Bass."

A lengthy pause ensued as I waved over my driver to take us back to my home.

"You have a penthouse? Why don't we test that 'shrinkage' theory," he shot me a heated gaze and I rolled my eyes.

As stupid as it was, I trusted Chuck Bass. Our families had been friends for years; his father and my mother were at one point really good friends when we were younger. Of course, our parents had done worse than we ever had. It was only natural, I trusted Chuck, after all those years of bonding.

"You're heinous, but you're avoiding the tux question," I directed the conversation back towards a safer direction.

"I paid for it."

"In what, might I ask?"

"Dignity."

Spotted; **C** and **B **getting out of a limo together and into **B**'s penthouse. Who knows what they're doing? XOXO Gossip Girl


	3. Repressed

**Repressed**

"_You're going to __ruin__ my legacy!"_

I could not understand why we had to go to school in order to learn. Why we had to do this and do that. Was I supposed to believe that education was the key to freedom? Did education not repress ideas other than the ones it deemed correct? Was going to a place where you were forced to believe it was unquestionably right the same as going to a place of freedom?

I wanted to laugh and cry. What ever slipped out of my mouth was neither one nor the other. It was too bitter to be a laugh, but it was too mirthful to be a sob. Somewhere, my hand groped for a joint as I craved the numb feeling. The numbness was bliss and I reached for a lighter. I poured myself some apple juice and sighed.

'S' for sigh; 's' for Serena. They were the sound of heartbreak and spontaneity. If there was anything I loved with all my heart, it was Serena. I could hear it, _Serena Archibald_. If only my father and mum weren't so set on me marrying Blair.

"_You can't get into Dartmouth, now." _

Ahh, Dartmouth. Good ol' Dartmouth. I hate Dartmouth. There was so much pressure. It heated all the way up my spine and ice raced through my veins. Somewhere along the line I stopped hearing and when I did, the voice of my saviour came floated down to me from the light.

"_Nathaniel, let's go. The women are waiting."_

Spotted: **C** and **N** off for a weekend of fun, let's try and not get too high, boys. You know you love me, Gossip Girl.


	4. Ridiculous

**Ridiculous**

Chuck never liked planes. There was a huge amount of just _dead weight_ held suspended in mid-air by a hollow metal cylinder. It also stood to reason that this _ridiculous_ly huge metal cylinder was running on a few 'sparking plugs' and its destination was guided by a lousy _ridiculous_ly thin thread of electricity. The constant hum of the engines was giving him a headache. _Ridiculous_.

The only thing that kept him _ridiculous_ly sane was the female flight attendant with the _ridiculous_ly short skirt – he'd never let _her_ wear that. Oh, and the little crackers with cream cheese, smoked salmon and topped with low grade caviar.

He hated caviar. His favourite '_gourmet_' food is _foie gras_. If there is anything he would love more to spread on a piece of bread with some marinated, sweet red onions, it is _foie gras_. _Foie gras_ is just about the only food he relishes with delight – besides sashimi. Sashimi is pure decadence to his palate. Mmm, top grade yellow fin tuna, reminded him of butter melting in his mouth.

The mouth was Chuck's _least_ favourite part of the body. His mother's mouth never stopped running, rather like this plane's noise, and spewed criticisms left and right. His father's mouth was poison. Everything it touched was spoiled. Somewhere between the logical and nonsensical that was why Chuck wouldn't touch Serena with a ten-foot pole. Bart Bass kissed Serena van der Woodsen's mother, her mother lives with her; Serena's tainted.

Tainted was what Chuck was. He was called 'dirty' and 'tainted' by his peers. He was the devil's advocate. This meant a ton of things. He could never save the princess in the penthouse, ride in a white limo to her rescue, wear shining armor, and most importantly, he couldn't sweep Blair off her feet.

Feet. Chuck liked his feet on the ground. He did not appreciate being mid-air in a cylinder, hurtling through the sky at 500+ miles an hour, thank you very much. It also stuck out at him that if one of those sparking plugs was going to short-circuit they'd hurtle into the ocean below. _Ridiculous_. Chuck hated the sensation of falling.

Chuck had fallen for Blair. How ironic was it that his childhood companion and _beautiful_ had spurned his affections. After all he had done, after all her _white knight_ had done to her, she chose to be with the supposed _white knight_. Chuck might have been a sneak and the devil reincarnated, but he was honest if nothing. He might weasel his way out of things and bend the truth, but if you asked for the honest truth, he could tell you.

Blair. _Beautiful_. **Lovely.** Young. _Ninety-five pound, doe-eyed, label-whoring, package of girly evil._ **Angelic.** Ethereal. _Exquisite_. Dainty. Refined. **Splendid.** _Flawless._ Elegant. **The apple of his eye.** The luxuriant woman in a sea of girls. _The rose who would smell as sweet by any other name._

He never could decide what was most apt, but, he supposed, that he'd be calling her Blair Bass for the rest of his life. Chuck could have sworn his heart fluttered.

It was all just turbulence.


	5. Reprimand

**Reprimand**

Even beneath the dark lighting and stunning attire, she could still see the blonde hair and beautiful curls swirl around the dance floor. There was only on Serena van der Woodsen and she was dancing with a certain Dan Humphrey. Blair was happy for the two; they had found love in each other. Serena wasn't as flighty when in love and Dan wasn't as, well, Dan.

This was the first masquerade ball that she had ever spent alone. Her dark curls were no longer so dark and instead a streaked with a light shade of honey brown. Her mask was firmly tied by a velvet ribbon and it was imported straight from _Venice_, _Italy_.

"Blair."

She didn't bother to turn her head and simply tilted her head to one side, "Nathaniel."

The pomegranate martini dangled from her fingers as she leaned against the marble counter top. The dress she wore was beautiful and entirely different from everyone else's. It was short and red velvet. It was longer on one side than the other and it was strapless. The bright Valentino red bow in the middle offset the blood colour of the rest of the dress. He could vaguely see the sheer white ruffle at the top and at the very bottom. The shoes were black and Christian Louboutin.

"This is the first year you found me on your own, Nathaniel," she commented nonchalantly. Bright eyes sought out her various friends and cohorts.

Bright, vivacious, young, Jenny sat at the bar, a combination of both Blair's impeccable taste and manner with Serena's golden looks. This time she wore real Tiffany diamonds.

Nate was silent and watched as the cocktail dress swayed in the light. Blair was clever and wore the sexiest dress there. There was no costume or pageantry except for her mask. Her sharp wit and comments confused him.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, his best friend came between them, "B, let's go for a twirl. I need to talk to you about something."

Chuck lifted her hand in the air and twirled her out to the dance floor. Nate watched as Blair smiled at him, with more warmth than she ever had him.

Nate looked out to see Serena and Dan, twirling about, having a grand time. Isabel was in a major lip-lock with a boy from Princeton – an older boy. Kati was sitting with a Japanese foreign exchange student and trying to get him to speak Japanese to her.

He shook his head and followed the trail of drunken Upper East Side New Yorkers to the exit. It was strange being the only one who didn't have a significant other.

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Who would have thought? **N**'s become the _Lonely Boy_ and **Lonely Boy** has become part of **S & D**. Speaking of which, **K** & **I** have found their perfect matches, along with **B** who's out with **C**. Oh, how the world turns.

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**A/N: Can't wait for Tuesday :)**


	6. Remembrance

Remembrance

Blair sat on her huge bed and quietly contemplated what had become of her life. There was a shift of power in the world, even though Blair was still on top. She sighed and moved over to examine her choice of outfit.

It was a Thursday morning and it meant she had no classes until second period. Sitting on an oak wood hanger was the school blazer and with the school issued skirt and a pretty white jersey turtleneck halter. Blair put on the skirt and halter.

This morning, she was waiting for a visit from one of the Bass's. The Bass and Waldorf families had been close for a long time. They both came from the same area in England where they had amassed their fortunes through old money. A Waldorf and a Bass were never far apart.

Charles and Blair were best friends from in the cradle. They attended the same luncheons and play dates and Kindergarten schools since childhood. They had ruled the Upper East Side elite of their generation for almost forever.

"Miss Waldorf?" the maid called through the intercom, "Mr. Bass is here." Blair wondered if it was Charles or Bart. Uncle Bart was always welcome; he always came bearing tales of his travels with a gift. He had assumed the position of 'Daddy' for the time being.

Her fingers hooked on the blazer and stepped out into the foyer. She was a little disappointed by the younger Bass who sat in the foyer. Her feet were cold as she stood on the stairs and looked at him.

"Hello, Chuck," she said despondently.

His eyes raked over her form, looking at her legs for a while, "smashing look, my dear."

Blair was not in the mood for games. Somewhere beneath the deep recess of Chuck's strong demeanor, her childhood friend Charles still existed. She turned on her heel and headed back towards her bedroom. Chuck stood and followed her, his Tom Ford slippers on his feet as he stalked her.

"It's a Thursday morning, where's Nathaniel?" His eyes prowled the landscape and he pulled a rose from the centerpiece and sniffed it.

Bright eyes stared back at him in anger, "why are you here, don't you have a morning class to get to?"

Chuck smiled thinly at her, "I'm fishing for some attention, B."

The pretty eyes rolled and she sighed. Blair couldn't stand him sometimes, but as the saying was in some circles, 'A Bass and a Waldorf were always close together'. He followed her into her room. He sat at her leather computer chair which was a one of a kind present from Bart Bass. Blair wandered into her closet.

He looked at the shoes on her desk; they were black, leather, and Manolo Blahnik. Chuck looked at the labeled boxes and read them.

"Christian Louboutin, Manolo Blahnik Cole Haan, Gucci, and Prada…" he picked out the Manolo black pumps and brought them to Blair, who was sitting on a couch in her closet.

Blair had her legs tucked to one side and was fastening her Tiffany's bracelet. The shimmering trinket was a gift from Charles from a while ago. It held a B and a C. Nobody really paid attention to it enough for them to pick up the odd combination of letters.

She looked in the mirror and spotted Chuck standing in the doorway, a pair of black pumps in one hand.

"Yes,_Charles_?" Blair waved one hand airily and stood to pick out a jacket. He sauntered over and crouched in front of her. His eyes met hers as he picked up a foot delicately. His hand seemed to heat up her leg and it slowly traveled up to her f ace. A light blush showed on her face as he slipped on both heels.

He smiled, bashfully, "I was looking through your boxes of shoes. These seemed most practical for today."

Blair did not have the heart to tell him that they were shoes she was going to send as a gift to her friends in Paris. He rose up and offered her a hand. She smiled at him and finished tying her hair into a bun. Chuck offered to tie a red velvet ribbon around her hair and she accepted.

"You look fabulous, Queen B," he rasped.

She smiled and tilted her head to one side to look at him in the eyes. Blair reached up to pull the rose from his jacket pocket and played with it for a moment. Her fingers reached out to replace it when he grasped her hand.

With gentleness unknown to anyone but her, he threaded it into her hair. Blair smiled softly, "what's the reason for this visit?"

The tension dissipated and she had to admit, she was surprised by his softened demeanor.

"I came to see my best friend, B," Chuck murmured. He pulled a Helmut Lang wool over-coat off a hanger and put an arm around her shoulders.

She laughed, genuinely and he pinched her dimpled cheeks, "now, I was thinking that we could go to Victrola's for a little repeat performance."

Blair snuggled into his side as they walked out of the foyer. She grabbed another red rose and snapped the long stem off and tucked the flower into his pocket.

"Not on your life, Chuck."

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Spotted: B and C going for an early morning breakfast.

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A/N: It's Tuesday for Canada. :) 


	7. Release

**Release**

Blair sat opposite of Chuck in the Palace Hotel restaurant. She skimmed through the pages and frowned. She felt like letting go of her stupid diet and eating something of choice; something she _liked_.

"Blair, what are you ordering?" Chuck said. His menu still unopened and lying on the side of the table.

She closed it with a snap, "strawberries and fresh cream, please."

His lips quirked up, "you do know, because my family _owns_ this place, you could have anything you want?"

Her cheeks heated up slightly. Blair had forgotten that the Bass' had bought the hotel. Her head tilted to one side and her lips pursed for a moment. Briefly, she wondered if she should have a drink to go with this morning breakfast.

"Isn't it a little early to be hitting the bottle?" he smirked at her.

A scowl planted itself on her face only to be replaced by a sneer. Her delicate features were twisted and she found herself wishing that there were fifty people in between them. She decided to suck it up and simply smiled back at him.

"As a matter of fact, I wasn't going to have a drink, but I would like a _café latte_. Please." Her cobalt eyes were trained on him before grabbing a newspaper off a nearby table. _The New York Times_ was splashed across the front.

Chuck laughed as the newspaper opened up and she ignored him pointedly. Sometimes it was worth it, but he wanted to see her pretty face. He moved over slightly and placed a hand on her bare leg, slowly running it up and down.

He saw her pupils dilate and felt her tense before continuing to read and relax. It moved down slightly. To anyone else, it looked like they were sharing the newspaper.

"Mr. Bass? What would you like today?" asked the French maitre'd.

Chuck replied just as Blair was lowering her newspaper, "strawberries with a side of cream and a café latte for my friend, and I would like a Belgian waffle with fresh fruit and water." He moved back to his side of the table, as Blair went back to reading her paper.

As he found himself going to turn and ask the maitre'd for a side of cereal when the most sensual feeling overcame him. Blair's petite foot was rubbing at the inside of his thigh from within the safety of the long tablecloths. Her eyes were still trained on the newspaper, but it was set lower. Her eyes moved from side to side and the page turned once in a while.

He found himself grasping her bare foot beneath the table and massaging it with his fingertips.

"You do indeed like your harlotry, don't you?" Chuck murmured below his breath.

Her lithe foot retracted, but not before having a toe trace its way down his leg in a sultry manner. The page turned.

He whined, "Why would you stop now?"

A soft laugh emerged, only for her to show him the comic page. There was a satire of the life of a socialite. He scowled at her. In return Blair simply looked amused. She turned the page.

The strawberries and cream came with her café latte, quite quickly. Blair looked at him from under her lashes, a soft look in her eyes. He wondered what she was thinking. Chuck had never seen that look before, but he had to say that it was definitely sultry and sexy.

"Well? Ms. Waldorf?"

Blair laughed and popped a strawberry into her mouth, "your decrepitude astounds me, Mr. Bass."

She dipped the second strawberry in the cream with her silver fork and gave a sigh of pleasure. This was her favourite. She savoured everyone, not bothering to realize that Chuck's food was had arrived a full five minutes after hers.

Chuck sulked as her lips kiss each piece of fruit before she pulled them in her mouth with her tongue. If anything, he was jealous of fruit – the hell?!

Blair looked at her phone and blinked, "ah, shit. I have to go into school early to day. I'll see you later, Charles!"

She popped the last strawberry in her mouth. She dabbed at the corners of her mouth before drinking the cream straight from the bowl. With another dab with the napkin she turned his head to look at her and kissed him straight on the lips. It was passionate and he saw stars, fireworks, all those silly things – he felt them.

Blair pulled away and looked into his eyes before turning and walking out, "see you at school, _Charles_."

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**Spotted: B** leaving the Palace Hotel with her lipstick smudged. I wonder who she's been seeing? XOXO Gossip Girl

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**A/N: C/B action abound this week. I **_love_** it.**


	8. Epic

**A/N: A little thing between Blair and TV!Erik. All inspired from when she told him to 'call her', in Episode 5**.**

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**Epic**

Blair sighed, as usual, Wednesday night was dead silent – and it was killing her. Blair's room was deafeningly quiet. It should not have been as quiet, but all her other friends had an important French exam to write.

She had never taken French in school. As the daughter of a woman who owned an atelier in France, Blair spoke perfect French. Private lessons had been introduced as soon as she could walk. After 4 years in France, running around her mother's atelier, school had called and both her mother and father had gone back to New York City.

Her phone vibrated in a circle before falling off her bed. Blair flopped over, her hand digging into the voluminous pile of duvet, sheets, and comforter to fish out her phone. She scrolled to find her text message and then laughed. It was Erik van der Woodsen lying in bed with puppy dog eyes, a deadly pout, and a caption that read: LET ME OUT!

Fortunately for Erik, Blair loved Wednesdays and could not resist a night out on the town – even if it was with Erik. Within moments Blair had donned a metallic silver python Giorgio Armani dress that fell to her knees. She ran out the door, into the elevator, only to stop inside to push the buttons and do up her _Prada_ heels.

She took the moment of rest to message Erik back with: see you soon, should I bring Serena?

Not two moments later, a reply came back from the prison bound van der Woodsen: Don't, she's just going to ruin the fun.

A saucy laugh and she shrugged on her Valentino red trench coat. Her red lips were an almost exact shade of red, with her hair in a low bun. The older van der Woodsen had this odd sense of responsibility, but Blair did not. If anything, Blair was a bit of a wild child.

She stepped out into the lobby and asked for the concierge to summon the car service. Blair waited for a moment and then walked out into the street and into the waiting Mercedes-Benz. The sleek black machine purred in the night as she headed to the Ostroff Centre. Blair wondered for a moment if she could 'borrow' Erik. Blair decided not to chance the whole off-her-rocker-socialite trick this time.

She phoned Erik, "hey Erik, think you can meet me downstairs?"

He chuckled humourlessly, "I can sneak out, but pull right up to the gates."

"Done and done," she said and ended the call, "hey, pull right up to the gates." The older man nodded and Blair sat back, a smirk on her face. Her hands nervously played with the tendrils of her hair, before studying her nails. The daintily tipped French manicure was the style of choice for Blair.

A certain blonde slipped in through the door of the Mercedes quietly, "hey Blair, we should go now."

Her lips stretched skywards, "you heard the man, driver."

The nervous, but still endearing Erik smiled at her. He seemed jittery, but probably from being out after dark and just talking honestly to someone.

"Hey Blair, do all girls like make-up and beauty stuff?" Erik asked, his eyes were drilling holes into her skull, rather innocently, and she thought about it.

Her lips pursed, before she answered, "No, not all girls. Most girls at Constance Billard will, though – the typical girls at least. Every girl has a flaw or two to hide."

"Why? I think all women – at least the ones I know – to be beautiful, but they all wear tons of cosmetics and perfumes…"

Blair's brain did not even filter the words that flowed from her mouth, "Serena and your mother are beautiful, Erik, they don't need cosmetics. It's something about being tall, blonde, and fabulous."

Erik looked confused, "I think you're beautiful too."

A genuine laugh spilled over her lips. He stared at her, confused by her laugh. Blair did not resist the impulse to give Erik a kiss on the cheek, in a purely platonic way, and giggled.

"You're too kind, Erik," she looked at him in the eyes, "how about we go back to my place and have a martini, with some of your favourite gelato, and watch that opera you missed last week on DVD."

Erik looked excited again, he was almost like a puppy. Blair loved to coddle and spoil puppies, "sure! Is it the one playing at the Metropolitan Opera? It was _Macbeth_, right? Do you have Puccini's _Manon Lescaut_ or _La Bohème_?"

Blair moved closer to Erik and snuggled with him, "sure, anything you want, kid."

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Spotted: **B** & **E** entering **B**'s penthouse apartment. **E** looks like Christmas has come rather early. You know you love me, Gossip Girl.

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**A/N: Sorry! No C/B right now and this was on going. I hope you like it.**


	9. Extraordinary

**A/N: Shouts to those who review. :) You guys know how to give a girl encouragement. **

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**Extraordinary**

Chuck sat in his pajamas and watched her fiddle with a gorgeous pink diamond necklace. He grunted as she caught his eye. When he did not move to help her, Blair simply tried again. The clasp caught and she picked up her black clutch. It offset her Valentino red trench coat and black Adam + Eve draped dress.

Her ruby red lips lifted upwards in a practice smile. Chuck stared through the mirror. His little fox was getting all dressed up and pretty – for Erik van der Woodsen. Even though it had been a few years since Erik had left the Ostroff Centre, Blair still went to see whatever opera he wanted to see. Why couldn't Blair just donate to charities like all the other Manhattan socialites?

"Don't wait up too late, okay?" she said, her lips pursing and checking her makeup in the mirror one last time. The paparazzi always had a ball snapping pictures of the Waldorf heiress and van der Woodsen golden boy together. She put the clutch down on the table and opened another drawer.

The drawer held several bottles of lip gloss, lipstick, and lip balm. She smoothed her lips and licked them before wiping off the ruby red colour. He scowled as Blair smoothed lip balm on her lips. It was painstaking, the care she took in her appearance. Chuck figured that at this rate, she would look twenty until she was forty. The special bright red lipstick was pulled out and smoothed over her lips, it was sheer and kissable.

Oh, how Chuck wished to kiss off all that lip gloss.

"You look good, B."

The smooth sheen of her lips had him captivated while she spoke, "you're heinous."

She gave a twirl around and smiled at him. Her hair was done up in a tight bun and her dress seemed to have Black Hole characteristics. It sucked in light, but the darkness was intense.

"I don't know why we could not have gone out for a pre-dinner show…" He scowled, the thin Elijah Rosette Tank lay draped over her chair with Rag & Bone skinny jeans and a black jacket with tails. While he hated sharing her, Chuck admitted that if he didn't, the sex probably would not be as good.

Blair turned and smiled at him, her little angular, heart-shaped face was beautiful. He wondered briefly if he could ever get her out of her clothes, but decided against it –

"-maybe later, Chuck," she murmured from under her eyelashes.

Chuck shook his head, she knew him too well, "well, if he touches you, I'll kill him."

Those pretty blue eyes seemed to pop out and beg him to kiss her. Chuck could resist everything except temptation. With move like that out of a movie, he kissed her and brought her down in a dip, then pulled her back up and she stared breathlessly at him. Blair was a hopeless romantic at heart, and he knew what she loved.

"Have fun, B," he smirked.

Blair smirked back and sauntered out the door in black Prada heels. Chuck shook his head and hopped back in bed. He curled up in the king size bed, pulling the duvet up to his chin. The other side of the bed was empty, not that he minded.

The air was crisp and fresh as Blair Waldorf stepped out into the air. Her father's present – a silver Maybach. It was being chauffeured as of late because of Blair's nasty habit of annoying taxi cab drivers.

She sat quietly in the back, the soundtrack to _Swan Lake_ playing on the speakers. As they pulled up to the canal, Blair spotted the telltale blonde hair – Erik. With a smile, she told the driver to unlock the doors, she had seen her friend.

Erik slid in quietly, a handsome smile on his face as he pulled the door shut. "It's great to see you, Blair. I booked us tickets to see Wagner's Tristan and Isolde at the Met Opera, of course."

Blair looked excited. He watched her as she smiled genuinely. Erik was well aware that any day now, she was going to become _Mrs. Chuck Bass_, but he could not help it. Blair was intoxicating and she enjoyed several things he did.

While Blair was not his sister; no one could replace her. His sister was flighty, flaky, and air-headed; whatever other synonyms you could use. Blair was the opposite; she always called ahead, always showed, and always made sure that she was not late. Well, not on purpose. She was the devil on his shoulder, encouraging him to do things he had never tried, or just going out to get drinks with her. Erik kind of idolized her, but now that he was older, he adored her.

"That sounds excellent, you do have good taste in theatre and operas," Blair acknowledged, "why don't you ever bring any other girls to the opera?"

Erik chuckled, in his deep baritone, "because, they don't appreciate it like you do."

She raised an eyebrow, "oh yeah?"

Erik shook his head, "a lot of people don't appreciate things like you do. You're lucky though, you've found a man who will appreciate you as much as you appreciate him."

Her eyes welled up in happiness. Erik ran a hand through his spiked up hair. He hated it when girls cried, especially Blair. She was a powerhouse of woman and it took a lot for her to even shed a tear. Erik adjusted his Elie Tahari shirt and tie, feeling bashful.

"Thanks Erik," she smiled, "by the way, lose the tie. You don't need it."

His eyes rolled and he shrugged off the tie that took him _forever_ to fucking tie. Blair rolled it up and stored it in a compartment off to the side. She pulled out a pocket square of the same colour and placed it in the suit pocket.

Erik shook his head, "I should have known," the car stopped gently and Erik opened his door, "we're here."

He stepped out first and waited to take Blair's hand. Instantly, several cameras went off when Blair stepped out. If anything, Blair was famous for her socialite status and intellect. Erik on the other hand was New York's infamous 'playboy'. Erik liked his girls, but he was not a complete jerk.

Blair stood up and proceeded to walk up the steps with Erik, arms linked. She smiled and Erik leaned over and whispered, "How does Chuck feel about all this?"

Birds might as well have chirped, as she laughed, "he's never too happy, but it's not like he enjoys the opera. I think he would rather have you go with me than sit through three hours of what he calls '_unintelligible drivel_'.

Cynically, Erik's lips lifted up. He adored this woman, and if Chuck ever did anything to her, there would be hell to pay. Erik would make sure of that. Although, he had never acknowledged these feelings until they were older, he felt that it was his duty to take care of the most important women in his life. Although, Blair was neither Serena, nor his mother and she was not blonde, he felt this connection.

With Blair on his arm and his own smile in place, he had to admit that she was a real piece of art.

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Spotted:** **B **& **E** at the Metropolitan Opera showing of Wagner's Tristan and Isolde, so where's **C**?**

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A/N: I'm not sure about this, but I would appreciate reviews on this. My own iffy feelings have given me writer's block. Ackk!**


	10. Rightfully

Rightfully

Blair never forgot. It was a cold day in hell if she ever forgot. Blair was the kind of girl who could forgive, but never forget – usually. Today she was having trouble trying to forget. Obviously, forgetting and forgiving went hand in hand. But no, not today, and rightfully so.

She played the next message on her phone, "hey B, it's Chuck… I just wanted to say I'm sorry in person. I mean, if the flowers haven't already spoken for me… it's just – I'm sorry. Please forgive me."

A cold, bitter laugh bubbled up from somewhere near her heart. Her cold hands felt numb against the silk of her sheets. It was not every day that you had a second great love in your life. It was not every day that the great love of your life cheats on you. It was not every day that the great love of your life cheats on you with a blonde. No, those were supposed to be one time things.

_Oh, Blair, you're so wrong._

Perhaps this was penance for having sex with Chuck right after breaking up with Nate. Tears slipped down alabaster cheeks. If Chuck was apologizing, it must be big. He never apologized. Blair was not even sure if he knew how to be sorry.

"It's not my fault. I have done nothing wrong. This is all their self-esteem problems." Blair struggled with herself. The broken words were bleak and she wondered how long until she withered away and perished.

She blinked back tears and deleted all the messages on her phone. Blair was so much better than that. Why waste your life on people who do not want you to thrive and prosper? Even if she did feel like crying every two seconds, she would put on a brave face. She could show him what he was missing, that she was _so_ much better than he.

Blair picked up her phone and dialed Serena, "S?"

The raspy voice of her best girl came pouring back, "I'm so sorry, Blair. Let me phone Kati, Is, and Jenny. We'll make it a girls' night and dish about Chuck, okay?"

There was a sniffle on Blair's end and Serena smiled. Blair was coping, at least, "no, it's okay. I just wanted to tell you that I won't be in town for a while. I think I need some time to myself, alright?"

She stood up and tied up her hair. All traces of make-up were replaced with a new batch and she practiced her pretend smile in the mirror. Blair could not help it. She threw her clothes into a Hermes suitcase, picked up her carry-all Marc Jacobs 'Stam' purse, and donned something suitable for an airplane.

Blair dialed another number, "Hello? Peter? Can you charter a flight for me to Europe, please? Preferably to Paris or London? Thank you, I will be there in two hours."

A make-up bag was thrown into her suitcase and she zipped it up. Anything else she could need would be bought once she arrived. Blair had no idea where she was going – she just wanted to escape.Serena and her friends knew she was right in wanting to leave.

For a fact, she knew that Chuck would never follow her. He hated planes. He would never last 10 hours on one. Blair was sure. She opened her drawer and left out the Erickson Beamon necklace on her vanity. Europe and some hard partying were calling her name. She did not care if her New York socialite friends found out through various tabloids. Blair was heading to Europe.

Somehow, through the drinking and the haze Blair found herself in her hotel with some rich French boy. He was kissing her neck and trying to seduce her. He was platinum blonde, had a fair complexion, and spoke brilliant English. He was charming and sweet. Ever since she had come to London, he had been attentive of her needs. Blair had him dubbed as 'the nice guy'. Blair did not want a nice guy. The only nice guy she had ever dated had cheated on her with her best friend.

"_Vous êtes stresse_?" he whispered in French.

Blair shook her head, "non, François."

He inclined his head and flopped down beside her, "you can tell me, you know. I have never gotten to know anyone such as you, in such a short time, Blair. Do you have a…significant other?"

There was a quick rush and Blair suddenly felt dizzy, but sober. The cogs in her brain whirred back into life. Chuck's face popped into her head. "Yes and no."

François's face contorted in confusion, "_pourquoi?_" He was confused, but rightfully so.

She traced a pattern in the silk sheets beneath them. Blair had not told anyone in London about her debacle with Chuck yet. However, she had gotten wind of the 'home base' receiving word of her partying in Europe. "_parce que_… he hurt me. He hurt me so bad, but I still love him."

François cradled her in his arms, "perhaps…you can reach a compromise?"

His purple eyes looked hurt, but he was still trying to help her. François was a sweet heart, she wished she could take him back to New York with her.

Blair really took moments like these to heart. She loved this guy. "Maybe.Until thenwe should sleep." She drew the duvet and comforter over themselves, her in an LBD and him in skinny black slacks.

And there she went into dreamland. In dreamland it was her and Chuck and just them. Everything was perfect and the way it should. Reality was simply a figment in a far, far away place. Blair was quite loath to admit to herself that all her relationships had failed. Perhaps, it was partly due to her. She would never know, though, as she was going to stay right here in Europe – quite possibly forever.

"I love you, Chuck Bass. I do."

* * *

Chuck was furious. Blair had left him without saying so two weeks earlier. The first insult was that she had left her 17th birthday present from him in her penthouse. The second insult was when she had left without telling him. The third insult lay written in the newspaper. The headline was 'WALDORF SOCIALITE IS PARTYING HARD IN EUROPE. WHERE IS BASS?' The article went on to spout various rumours and possible truths.

The reality was that he had messed up. Chuck Bass had wronged Blair Waldorf. It was something he had sworn never to do – ever. Now he was paying the consequences and he was angry. Chuck loved her, even if his lousy excuse was being drunk and egged on by Nathaniel, he never wanted to be without her.

Chuck was sorry. His heart felt it, his mind felt it, and his body felt it. He had not had good night's sleep in ages, the necklace she left he carried with him everywhere, and he was just so ready to snap at everyone. He had already tried to peg this on Nathaniel, but that just made him feel more immature and stupid. It was just all his fault. There were no more excuses.

He wanted desperately to fly into Paris to find her, but right now, it was not the air he feared. Chuck feared Blair Waldorf. Yes, that's right; Chuck feared that ninety-five pound, doe-eyed, label-whoring, package of girly evil. And rightfully so.

Chuck was miserable. _And bloody rightfully fucking so._

* * *

A/N: What do you think? _  
_


	11. Repent

**A/N: A kind of continuation of the previous chapter. I tend to do this sometimes... Sorry if theres any confusion where things got lost in between the two!**

* * *

**Repent**

She was uninterested. Of all the useless gifts he had sent her; why would she need bloody rubies? Blair tossed them back in the box and put it in her jewelry box, which was now quite large. She sighed. Her arsenal of jewelry was quite large. Everything from rubies to sapphires to emeralds to diamonds glimmered brightly at her.

Blair was turning twenty-four tomorrow. She had skipped two years of university, almost unheard of in the academic society, and had completed most of her Masters' courses. If anything, the young socialite should be on top of the world – and she was. The only glitch was that her best friend was too in love with her boyfriend to be fun anymore, the first great love of her life was not in love with her anymore, and the second one just kept sending her all this fucking jewelry.

University was great. She was currently studying in Paris, honing her skill in written and oral French. Blair really did not need to learn to speak French better, as it was impeccable already. This was just an excuse to remain across the Atlantic Ocean

Slim fingers picked up her pen. It was cold, hard, and the gold plate was reassuring beneath her warm skin. The room was drafty, and she rubbed her feet together to keep warm. Her lips pursed and she huddled into her big Burberry throw. There was nothing like cashmere to keep a girl warm.

Big blue eyes spied her sleeping best guy, François, on his bed. He was cutely bundled up in his thick comforter and snoring softly. Blair's eyes sparkled as she smiled. This was the guy who helped her get over Chuck Bass' heartbreak. This was the guy who accompanied her to the French opera when she missed home. This was the guy who insisted they go to New York under the pretense of meeting Erik at the Met Opera, but really just wanted her to face her fears. This was the guy who had yet to hurt her. This was the guy she should marry.

Her recent acknowledgement of being '_on the market_' so to speak was causing her constant headaches. Blair might live in a sexy Parisian apartment with François, the French nice guy, but they were in a purely platonic relationship. It had been clear from the start that neither was going to settle with the other.

Serena had come to visit them a while back. She had unabashedly revered François' excellent manners, slim body, toned arms, and intelligent banter. He was friend approved, but that didn't matter much to Blair. It was amusing to see Cabbage Patch get all indignant, though.

_Oh Blair, what about Chuck?_

French manicured nails drummed on the mahogany wood. If she sent him a card, it would be her way of accepting all his apologies. Although, really, with all the presents she had sent him on random days, that was her apology. Blair apologized in gifts, but she never outright said it. Sorry wasn't something to be said, it was to be thought and given.

Blair pulled out her Smythson of Bond Street stationary and pulled out a card. She jotted down a few quick words with the pen.

_Je ne veux pas __votre__ cadeau. __I just want you._

Quickly sealing the envelope, Blair raced down to catch the last mail collection of the day. The resident mailman Jimmy smiled, _"bonsoir Mademoiselle Waldorf."_

She smiled tightly, "air mail, please? Charge it to my account." Blair knew he spoke perfect English and smiled wryly.

Jimmy tipped his cap to her and turned to leave. Blair was a socialite, and pulled a $20 from her pocket and slipped it into his white gloved hand. "Thank you, James."

The edges of his mouth tipped up as he slipped it in his pocket. She watched him go and sighed. Blair trudged back into the elevator and flashed her card, causing the elevator to shoot straight to the top. Penthouse suites were fantastic, but being able to commandeer the elevator whenever you wanted was a privilege.

Blair threw herself onto her bed and curled up beneath the heavy down blanket. A long sigh exited her mouth as she lay on the long bed. It was sumptuous and fluffy, but she missed _him_. She really, really, _missed_ him. Her best mate slept on the otherside and she crawled into her own neatly made bed.

"I love you, Chuck," it was hollow to her own ears.

New York Society was aggressive and angry. Blair was a product of that; she was mean, sadistic, short-tempered, and busy. However, some of what had gotten through unscathed was still beautiful. It was idealistic and romantic. Blair had always loved with all her heart, and usually it was returned. Sometimes though, you can't love with all your heart and give and give and give. Sometimes, you had to take back.

Blair sighed; she had just sent her heart across the Atlantic to the one guy she thought would really want a relationship with her. The one guy she thought was not a coward. The one guy she thought was going to accept her and cherish her and love her. Blair didn't know how to take her heart back anymore.

Chuck sat in his amazingly beautiful penthouse. The light streamed in from the open curtains. His day was shaping up to be great. His hair was neatly in place and he was looking like a gentleman. If anything, the halo of light surrounding his form made him look almost like an angel.

"Good morning, Lila," he said to his maid, "could you fetch the mail?"

She pointed towards the counter, "it's already here, sir."

He nodded and grabbed his demitasse cup, taking a small sip from it. He flipped through his mail. There were invitations to parties, junk mail, and bills. On the bottom of the pile was a small card, which was neat and had a hand-written address on it.

Chuck took the demitasse cup and knocked back the entirety of its contents with one gulp. _The Crème de la __Mer__ was going to hit the fan._

He recognized Blair's handwriting and her signature stationary set. His eyes were downcast as he sat down on his bed, ignoring how his suit jacket was wrinkling. It had been so long since he had seen her beautiful face and beautiful blue eyes.

_I don't want your gift. I just want you._

This was the first year she had written back.

He checked the time and made a call into his office to his secretary, "Lily, I need you to find Blair Waldorf's phone number for me. I think she lives in Paris or New York. I don't care what you have to do, get me that phone number in half an hour and phone the people down at the hanger to get my jet ready. Oh, and don't schedule any appointments for the rest of the week and tell my father I'm going on that vacation he wanted me to take."

He felt it in his being. Maybe today he would be able to contact her. Maybe tomorrow he could hold her in his arms. Blood raced through his veins as he was excited. He loved her. He really did. Chuck wanted this with all of his being, was that too much to want?

"I love you, B, just wait for me."

* * *

**Spotted: **A certain **B** in Paris with a lovely fair-haired Parisian. **C**'s going to have conniption.

* * *

**A/N: Tadaaa!** Read and review, please:) 


	12. Eloquence

**Eloquence**

François slung his arm around her shoulder lackadaisically. He was not too excited by New York, but he was a little nervous about leaving his _cherie_ Blair alone - especially when she was so broken up over that _Charles_ guy. Charles had contacted her while he was out on a modeling contract for Paris Vogue. With a resigned sort of posture, she agreed, but only if her best friend could come with her.

From what François could tell, this Chuck was bad news. He was a gnat in the gnu's side. Chuck was like a virus, just when you thought it was going to go away, it was came back.

Blair was sneaky. She was sneaky enough to get Chuck to allow François to accompany her, but without it looking too bad. Piercing blue eyes smiled at him as she hailed a cab. Blair hated cabs; the gross New York cabs were all driven by immigrants. Blair missed her driver and her sleek Mercedes.

The soft touch of her hand clasping his wrist, and leading him out into the crisp New York air was so unusual. Never had he seen her so urgent, or elated to be home. Quietly he wondered if Paris was her escape - her place of wonder and dreams. François wondered if she was Pygmalion, and Charles was her sculpture. That made François Aphrodite, of course.

"Come on, we have somewhere to be, dear," grinned Blair. They pulled their luggage towards an awaiting limo, and she smiled. Life was excellent now.

When they reach Park Avenue and pull up to the Palace Hotel, François is amazed. Her life was decadent, although, their life in Paris was even more so. Yves Saint Laurent and Dior Homme everyday and burgeoning designers at night, so was the life of a Parisian. People swarmed around them, and he wondered if she was always so popular. In response to being around so much _American_ he smiled at her and spoke in French.

"Est-ce que tu est célèbre?" he grinned cheekily.

She gave him a snarky look and told the bell hop to take her bags up to the van der Woodsen's room. François grinned, they were staying in Serena's old apartment, before the all moved out; Lily upstairs with Bart, Erik to the Humphrey's, and Serena to West Village with Dan.

Blair looked up at the Palace Hotel and smiled at François, "come on, best mate, we have a city to scour."

They both checked in and lounged around for a while, feeling like two out of place Parisians in an American city. Blair was American through and through, but often didn't act it. She was so much more _Euro_ than an American.

"Shall I show you around New York?" Blair cocked her head to the side. As much as she loved New York, it was not her home anymore. She felt so out of place within the Palace walls. Her thoughts switched to Chuck and she banished those thoughts for later.

The Palace Hotel was a favourite of Chuck Bass'. It was almost next door to her penthouse until of recent. Her eyes were downcast, as she remembered being with Chuck, just upstairs. Blair cleared her head and decided to move on. She was older and wiser. It was time to move on and pull this splinter from her finger.

They wandered New York, taking in all of the stores and boutiques and sights. They visited the Statue of Liberty, to which François insisted on pointing out that a Frenchman had designed. They went to Times Square and did several tourist things. As was unusual for her, she carried around a lot of American cash, because she figured anything other than taxi fares she would charge to her credit card.

"Blair, let's go out for dinner. Feel like sushi?" her fair-haired companion asked her.

Her own blue eyes sparkled as they watched the setting sun, "sure. I know the best sushi restaurant! They serve the best bluefin tuna."

Once they got to Blair's favourite exclusive restaurant and were seated, a certain dark haired man caught Blair's eye. She stopped mid-bite and François reached over to stroke her knuckles. Obviously, there was a relapse. He was not a fool, there was no use in trying to get her to calm down, now.

"Blair?" he said softly, trying to catch her attention.

A faint reply drifted up, up, into his ear, "Chuck."

A frown spread across his face, "do you want to leave?" His companion looked pale and he was quite annoyed by the solemn and grave expression on her face.

"_Oui__, sil __te__ plait."_

Effortlessly, François summoned the waiter, "cheque, _sil__ vous__ plait." _

In the busy setting, with low lights and tables spread quite far apart, there was no reason for the waiter to stop for a moment. François found this suspicious, and spoke up, "_vite_."

Within five minutes, he had wrested her outside and into a cab. She looked a little lost, but grateful to François for being so fast-acting. She whispered to him, "I don't think I'm ready to be here."

His piercing green eyes raised, "nonsense, darling, you are strong."

Blair smiled, "I guess I should go visit him tomorrow?"

François' glittering emerald eyes were slanted dangerously, "_seulement_, _mon__ cherie_."

A soft sigh emitted from Blair's soft pink lips, "_maintenant?_"

He nodded in assent. The rest of the ride was silent, and Blair turned in early. He respected her space and simply decided on drinking 5 martinis from their bar. The next morning François found himself alone in their suite and knew where she was. Blair had gone to see Chuck.

Her grosgrain headbands no longer perched upon her head. Instead, Blair was ethereal, wearing black skinnies from Colette in _Paris_, a form fitting satin top, and a very sexy vest. Her tuxedo jacket with tails fluttered in the breeze of the balcony. Blair's expression was serene, as she looked out at the clouds. In a couple of days, she would be off the island and crossing the Rockies, to L.A. She wanted the Roses' to meet François.

Chuck stood in the doorway, watching Blair on the balcony. She was different in comparison to everyone else in New York. He stepped out onto the balcony and sighed.

"It's good to see you," his eyes searched hers for a moment.

She seemed different, this was not the Blair who had graduated top of her class from Yale, "_oui_. _C'est encroyable._" She gestured out to the view.

It was like they were seventeen all over again. He felt butterflies and compassion, "Blair, I -"

"-save it. I have long forgiven you," the blue eyes gave one final sweep over the scenery before they turned to him, "I am only in town for two nights." Her lips twisted into a devious smirk and he recognized that sparkle in her eye. Their comraderie was reawakened.

Blair tipped her head, "oh, there is someone I would like you to meet... I brought my best friend with me."

"Oh? I'd like to meet her." Blair grinned, she was about to pay him back in full for yesterday.

* * *

**A/N: I'm sick of this, but I thought I should finish it. **


	13. Relaxation

**Relaxation**

Blair looked on in a sort of intense jealousy as she walked down Park Avenue. The blustery cold wind threw her hair around her in a tizzy. The four inch Louboutin booties tramped down the street as all the sickening couples cuddled and went on their merry way down the street. In her hands were bags and a box. She was doing her yearly Christmas rounds on Christmas Eve. Her first stop was Serena's house. The blonde was wearing a pink silk tank with over-priced dark wash jeans and an ivory brocade bolero.

"Happy holidays, B!" Serena pulled her into a hug and whispered, "are you going upstairs?"

Blair shook her head, "maybe."

She handed the elder van der Woodsen her gift first, then Erik, and finally Serena. Mrs. Van der Woodsen had been presented with an Eleanor Waldorf original and Erik a set of manuscripts of various operas and the paid-for invoice of a contemporary piece by some girl. The thin pen and cartoonish figure was genius. Serena's present was a large digital picture frame with pictures of the gang over the ages - from them in diapers to a picture that they had taken yesterday. The impatient bubbly blonde was so perfect and morally correct, except that she loved Cabbage Patch.

If this were 19th century New York City, Serena would be Elizabeth Holland, the perfect, older sibling who was in love with the coachman, Cabbage Patch. Which would make Blair the cast-off, Penelope Hayes and her Isaac Buck would be Chuck Bass. Or maybe she would fancy herself as Diana Holland, the rebel and Nate would be the debonair, playboy, Henry Schoonmaker. That, of course, meant that Jenny was Lina Broud, the maid. How she could dream, but, she had a mission to fulfill.

"I will see you later, Serena, Mrs. Van der Woodsen, Erik," she smiled warmly and went downstairs. One last, longing look up at the Palace and Blair turned to go. Her eyes were set with determination to finish her mission and still make it back in time to catch Bart Bass.

She made a stop at Kati's place, a Bergdorf bag in hand and left it with the maid. Kati was out in Central Park with a _boy_. Perhaps Blair would check out Gossip Girl later on.

She got in her chauffeured Maybach and continued down to Is' beautiful townhouse. Isabel was home, and they exchanged greetings and gave each other their gifts. They had idle chat for a few minutes.

"Are you going to Nate's house later?" smiled Is. Her lips pursed as she thought about Nate.

Blair shrugged, "maybe, I have to go home though. Dad's home."

Is nodded and smiled, "is _Roman_ there too?"

Blue eyes rolled, "yes, it's so weird!" she grinned, "but I have to go now, you take care!"

The waif-like Isabel waved to her from the warmth of her home as Blair sat back down in her car and called to her chauffeur, "Brooklyn, the Humphrey residence."

One bag held an Eleanor original with a few odds and ends, like Swarovski crystals and Wolford stockings. The other contained a set of Cabbage Patch doll clothes and a first edition set of American classics. She hadn't gotten anything for Vanessa, because she didn't know her all that well. There were three more bags and a box left. As they rolled across the bridge, Blair looked out the window and up at the grey sky.

Serena was always considered the romantic one, but, what if Blair wanted to try her hand at it? She could be the one who wanted to flee her prim and proper lifestyle and live out her days in L.A… Alas, t'was not to be her life. She shook herself out of her musings and smiled charmingly at her chauffeur.

"Wait a moment, please?" she dashed out and up the stairs to the Humphrey loft. Her question was not a question, but a demand. Her chauffeur, _Henri_, knew better than to leave her in Brooklyn.

She took her time and rang the door bell, her two bags at her side. Mr. Humphrey opened the door and eyed her appearance and called for Jenny, "Blair's here!"

Dan appeared first, wondering at the appearance. She handed him a smaller bag from the Toys' store downtown. Jenny strode casually and her doe eyes widened at the sight of Blair. If anything, Blair liked to surprise people. She did not like to cause commotion or scandal, but enough to people on their toes.

"Happy Holidays, Cabbage Patch and little J," she smirked at their stunned faces, "go on, open them"

Obediently, Cabbage Patch opened his gift. He chuckled at glared, "real funny." His present was composed of two outfits for Cedric. One was a Santa Suit, and the other was a tuxedo in silk and in the latest style a la _Dior __Homme_.

"I thought you'd like it. Besides, if you can't look good, I can always help out with the other Cabbage Patch, Cedric, is it?" she smiled grimly. Rufus cleared his throat from inside the kitchen. Blair Waldorf stood in their entryway, bearing gifts like she was a ninety-five, doe-eyed, label whoring package of girly evil Santa Claus.

Blair bid them good-bye, and took a mental note of the address. She stepped into her car and pulled out her EN-V and phoned the good couriers. "_Mathieu?_Please deliver the hamper to," she read off the address as her car took off back to Manhattan. There she got out at the Archibald residence.

"Good evening, Blair, how nice of you to stop by," smiled Mrs. Archibald.

Blair tipped her head, "it's good to see you, Mrs. Archibald. Happy holidays, I'm just here to drop this off." She motioned to the giant hamper _Henri_ had helped her carry in. She handed Mrs. Archibald a small wrapped casket, "could you give this to Nate for me?"

She nodded and handed Blair a present for her and Eleanor. Blair had the charm on full force. 10 minutes later of idle chatter, she left. Henri shook his head and mumbled something in French.

"_Elle __est__ bizarre_," he mumbled beneath his breath.

Blair smirked softly, "she speaks French, you know."

He looked bashful for a moment before resuming his driving to the Palace. Blair wore the Erickson Beamon necklace always. It seemed to highlight naturally anything she wore. The crisp air greeted her as she ascended the stairs to the Bass suite. Surely, he would be home later…

Blair rang the door bell and the familiar grey head of Bart Bass appeared. She was a little surprised that Chuck was still away, but greeted his father warmly, "Good evening, Mr. Bass."

He smiled at her and she smiled back, "Merry Christmas, Blair."

She handed him the presents and handed him a small box, "this is for Chuck, whenever he comes back." His icy eyes studied her deep azure ones.

Bart Bass was not a fool. His son adored the young Waldorf for a very long time. On the first day of kindergarten, he had come home with tales of the prettiest brunette. Right away, Bart Bass knew who the clever, brunette was. Every day for almost a month, he had been enchanted by her, regaling his father with stories of her beauty and grace. It had changed one night.

_A solemn__f__ive year old __Chuck __walks into the Bass Suite. His head is down and he slumps in his seat. The seat was one of two in front of Bart's desk. __Bart's wife was sitting in the other chair._

_She tilted her head to the side and frowned, "yes, Charles?"_

_Chuck shook his head and continued to pout for the rest of the afternoon. This was unusual and at bedtime Bart asked again, "what's wrong?" _

_"Blair Waldorf is going out with Nathaniel," was the sulky reply._

_The elder Bass smiled and the revelation came to him, "you like Blair."_

_His son continued to pout and __Bart tried to bestow his own experience, "sometimes, Charles, you have to be persistent." _

_Charles turned the other way and pretended to sleep. Bart was content, knowing that his son was thinking it over. He was not opposed to a match with the Waldorf's, especially one as charming as Blair._

Blair had a tight-lipped smile on her face, "thank you, Mr. Bass."

"Not a problem, Blair. Could you come in for a moment? Charles sent me a parcel to give to you," Bart said, turning and going to fish out the parcel from underneath the mess.

Obediently, she nodded and stepped into the house quietly. Her heels clicked against the floor and she cursed herself for not wearing quieter shoes.

Bart came back with a package that was small and fairly light. It was wrapped the same as all of Chuck's gifts, brown wrapping paper, black ribbon, and a giant red and gold bow on top with a little name tag.

She gave a reflex smile, "thank you, Mr. Bass. My mother wishes you well." Blair headed down to her waiting car. Her eyes were watery and she wondered why he couldn't come home sooner. She sniffled and walked out into the cold, not stopping when she brushed into someone in a white suit and black sunglasses.

"Sorry," Blair mumbled not even looking back. She collapsed into the back of her car and sulked. Her tears were wiped away and she regained her composure. Her makeup was a tad smudged, but nothing that anybody would chalk up to as just being outside so late.

Red lips parted and she called, "_home_, Henri, _sil__ vous__ plait."_

The sleek silver car rolled away, its engine purring with 604 horsepower and pulling away easily. She opened the present, on the box was a picture of a beautiful blown-glass heart. With care she opened the box; all that she was were shards.

The 'someone' standing in the lobby of the Palace stared after the luxury car. Blair was looking for him? He took off up the stairs. There was no reason to wait in the lobby, she was not coming back. She hadn't even given him a second glance.

* * *

**A/N: **I referenced the book The Luxe, by Anna Godbersen. I have to say, I liked the book a lot. It's a good stand alone, but I think there should be a sequel. 

Back to the C/B situation. Bleh, I'm not sure about you guys, but the whole pregnancy thing seems a bit far-fetched. Speaking of 'School Lies', was anybody else annoyed at everything that happened? Serena telling her mom not to go out with Rufus? Chuck being a big, big ass? Nate and Blair? One thing I did like was the whole Vanessa and Blair interaction. Very cute.


	14. Entertainment

**Entertainment**

Because Blair hates being alone and Chuck has obviously not caught the next flight, she flies out to Milan from Tuscany. Ben, the nice man who had been keeping her company for the past week bids her a sweet farewell, flowers and all.

"Good-bye, Blair, perhaps when we meet next, it will be on better terms," his eyes are sad, but he smiles for her benefit. Blair gives him a hug and has most of her belongings Fedexed back to her apartment. Instead of boarding a Bass plane, she gets on her daddy's G5 and flies the short flight.

Blair was headed to La Scala to see _Verdi's_ Aida. Erik van der Woodsen was coming out to see her as well. It was a good opera, one of her favourites. Erik was always good company and La Scala was her second favourite venue. Having a box seat was just a plus. Blair was also always on time, which helped because _no one_ was seated once it started.

"Miss Waldorf? Your car is waiting for you," smiled the pilot. She took her two bags, on a Louis Vuitton carry-on and the other an Hermes briefcase.

"Thank you, I'll let Roman and Daddy know that you are the best pilot I've ever seen," she smiled coyly before exiting the cabin and down the stairs.

The expensive Bentley was waiting on her as she deposited her own bags in the backseat. She had an opera to catch and a van der Woodsen to catch up with. Blair wore sunglasses, a summer dress, and Pierre Hardy heels. She hardly looked jetlagged either.

"Miss? Do you want to go to your hotel first?"

"Yes," she said quietly. Blair spoke French, not Italian. Sighing, she blew the bangs out of her eyes and settled in for a peaceful ride.

**I just can't let you go  
I can't lose this feeling**

Chuck was running full speed through the airport to book a plane into Milan. He was even flying _commercial_ because he had no idea where Blair could be and she had Fedexed most of her items back to her suite ages ago, according to _Ben_.

He got to the front desk and gasped, "Chuck Bass, flight to Milan, _now_."

The airport attendant looked flustered, "right away, Mr. Bass."

He glared as she seemed to type for ever. Handing over his Platinum Visa Chuck waited for her to get him onto the next flight.

"First class is all we have left, Mr. Bass," she asked, her big blue eyes staring up at him.

He glared, irritated at himself for letting Blair go, "yes, yes, just book it."

Chuck swore she just typed even slower and he growled. Two minutes later his tickets were printed and he was once again sprinting full speed to get to the gate, which was conveniently placed on the other side of the airport.

**You have been the one for me****  
Good bye my lover, good by my friend  
You have been the one, been the one for me**

Blair held Erik's elbow as they ascended the steps to their private box. It was beautiful and she already knew the story of the opera like it was the story of her life. It was spectacular.

"Aida? Such a tragic story," he cuddles her underneath his arm. Erik is older and much wiser and Blair still adores this more confident Erik.

"You're wrinkling my dress," Blair jokes, "if it is any more ruined I will have you buy me a new one."

Erik laughed, "sure, sure."

The audience is hush and the orchestra starts to play. Blair is quiet and watches with great interest. She loves the opera and she loves to be in the company of her fellow Upper East Sider. The evening passes by quickly and in no time is she swept away by the wonderfulness that is _Giuseppe Verdi_. The entertainment is sophisticated.

At the end of the night she and Erik are enthusiastically chatting about the plotline. There is a heated debate of whether Aida should have lived and honored Radames sacrifice or not. Blair is still on the run and when she thinks she sees a glimpse of Chuck Bass, she hurriedly returns to her hotel.

"I will see you in a week in Paris at _Palais Garnier_ and we'll watch _Madama Butterfly_," she promises. Blair hurries back to her hotel, hopefully, unseen and arranges to have another flight from Milan to Paris. Hiding in Paris is easy because she knows the city like she knows Manhattan.

The next morning at five o'clock Blair awoke and showered. She was at the airport at six thirty and on the next plane to Paris at seven. Her thin form was tired and she slept the short hours of the flight. Getting off, she stayed in the _Hotel Crillon_ where her mother had permanent residence.

"_Bonjour_, _Mademoiselle Waldorf_," greeted the doorman.

Blair just tipped her head in response and went straight to her mother's room. Curling up in the sheets, she took a long nap. Later on, she would hide out in the _Eleanor Waldorf Atelier_. It was perfect, as the entrance was literally a hole in the wall, which led to a grand courtyard with artisans and tailors and costumers everywhere.

**Our great big happy ending is still a dream trapped in a guillotine**

Chuck threw his wireless mouse at the wall and snarled. His 'friend' had just Blackberry'd him that Blair had left Italy and was off to France. Most likely she was there for a few nights before jet-setting off to another city. He berated himself because she had most likely seen him in the crowd after last night's performance of _Aida_.

"Shit," he swore and slammed his laptop lid down. Throwing his stuff haphazardly into his Goyard suitcase, Chuck was off to the airport and running to catch up with his princess.

**No more crying  
No more grey skies  
We flyin' on a G5**

By the time July was over and August was approaching Blair had flown home and was on her way up to the Hamptons. Over the course of July she had successfully avoided Chuck and seen 10 Operas. She saw Verdi's _Aida_ at Teatro alla Scala in Milan, Puccini's _Madama Butterfly_ and _Tosca_ at Palais Garnier in Paris, Puccini's _La boheme_, Verdi's _Don Carlo_, and Mozart's _Le nozze di Figaro_ at Royal Opera House in London, Tchaikovsky's _Eugene Onegin_ at Bolshoi Theatre in Moscow, and Verdi's _La traviata_, Wagner's _Lohengrin_, and Bizet's _Carmen_ at the Bass Performance Hall in Texas. She knew that she was mocking him with the last one, but she thought it was amusing and oh-so_-entertaining_.

After every opera, she mailed him the tickets. So her three stint night in London had been most pressing as she had escaped right before he touched down. It was most amusing sometimes. Erik and Nate had come to meet her on various occasions after swearing not to tell Chuck. She had even flown Vanessa Abrams out to see _Carmen_ with her.

Now, Blair was a tad lonely and being driven up to her grandfather's estate. When she was little it had been her first big party where she entertained guests. Her grandfather had been proud of his granddaughter, after all, she had thrown the biggest and best party a five year old could.

The house though, it was a big house that was cozy and warm feeling. It was a second home and she smiled every time she saw it.

She pulled out bags into the guest house herself and stopped dead when she saw that someone was already asleep on her bed. A single shriek of anger escaped from her mouth as she turned on one perfectly heeled foot and stomped away.

"I hate you Chuck Bass! Get out of my house!" Blair picked up her bags and stomped back into the main house.

He trailed after her and yelled, "wait, wait! BLAIR!" She just slammed the door in his face and pouted.

Sometime after the fun and entertainment had worn off she changed into her bikini and barricaded herself in the indoor pool, which conveniently had glass all around it. Blair lazed around the Ozone treated pool and relaxed comfortably, paddling around with a magazine on a plastic floaty and sipping on sparkling wine.

"Hm, Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian have made up, yadda yadda," Blair wrinkled her nose; Hollywood was full of weird people. She threw _UsWeekly_ and _People_ onto the pool deck and read Gossip Girl instead. There was something about Dan, something about Serena partying with Kati and Iz, and a headline about herself being in London still. Blar snorted, that was _so_ two weeks ago. Blair was bored and it was only one o'clock, maybe she would message Serena later.

She settled into the pool and turned on the stereo system via the intercom. Her leisurely swim was interrupted by Chuck who had cut her music.

"_BLAIR? I KNOW YOU'RE LISTENING, COME OUTSIDE SO WE CAN TALK,_" he half demanded and half wailed.

Blair sighed and glanced at _UsWeekly_ before paddling back to the edge and hoisting herself out of the water. She figured that if she could not get entertainment from the gossip rags, she would have to make her own. She pushed the button and sat down on the floor, "yeah, okay. You screwed the interior designer. So?"

* * *

The finale made me laugh. C/B is so cute. (:


End file.
